


let this moment last

by ohmygodwhy



Category: Kagerou Project
Genre: Character Study, Family Feels, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, give this boy a break 2k17, it's the boy's bday!!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 05:44:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10870317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmygodwhy/pseuds/ohmygodwhy
Summary: When Kano was around five years old, small and battered, he was invited to this huge birthday party, complete with an actual bouncy house and gift bags and dozens of kids.(kano has lived through 16 birthdays)





	let this moment last

**Author's Note:**

> SO for some reason i thought my boy’s bday was on sunday??? and i had this long-ass detailed character study fic i was gonna write bc i thought i had TIME but then i found out it’s actually TOMORROW and i was like shit!!!!!!! and wrote this rlly fast bc it’s been years and i wanted to get at least smth out on time
> 
> anyways, happy bday to my boy kano u rlly deserve the world???? ily

 

When Kano was around five years old, small and battered, he was invited to this huge birthday party, complete with an actual bouncy house and gift bags and dozens of kids. He’d been invited out of sheer luck, honestly—every school has at least one rich kid, and this one had felt the need to have the entire grade at his house—which was fine, Kano definitely wasn’t complaining.

He hadn’t actually gone into the bouncy house—he probably would’ve had to take his jacket off—but it was fun anyways. The cake was good and there was enough candy in the gift bag that he could share with his mom and still have some left over.

He’d told the boy “Happy Birthday,” as he blew out his candles. 

 

There was the year his mom had taken him to an amusement park. 

She’d been in a really good mood that day—made him breakfast and everything and didn’t have anything to drink with her eggs, either—good enough to take him by the hand, pulling him onto ride after ride. They were rickety and terrifying and he kept thinking about screws falling out and the whole thing falling apart and the butterflies in his stomach almost made him sick—but she was happy and so he was happy, because she was rarely ever happy these days. 

She’d gotten him this ice cream cone, big and swirled all fancy. He dropped it. It had splattered across the ground, different from broken glass or porcelain, but still just as ruined. She didn’t get angry, though, just smiled at him with that lopsided smile that shown through the alcohol on the best of days, and bought him another one. 

She’d told him, “I love you, Shuuya,” and that made up for everything. 

 

There were other birthdays. One year he’d spent the day at the park, kids from school wishing him a happy birthday and letting him choose the games; he’d come home to find his mom somewhere between worried sick and angry because he’d _forgotten mother’s day, you always do this, I just want a little gratitude after all I’ve done_ , and he’d apologized and hugged her tight and hadn’t said a word about himself. 

She’d forgotten, another year (or maybe she’d drunken herself to sleep on purpose, probably didn’t wanna deal with him). So he’d bought a little cupcake from the bakery in town—the cheapest one he could find—and he’d found a candle somewhere in the back of some cabinet, and he’d lit it in the dark.

His hands had been all shaky (one wrist still wrapped up in check-out line bandages, a little too coarse against his skin), so he almost actually dropped the match, but he managed to catch the flame on the old candle and balance the plate on his crossed legs. 

He’d hummed the song to himself, imagining that huge party he went to when he was five, and it had tasted bittersweet. 

 

There was the first birthday in the Tateyama household. He was fairly new to all of it, the whole New Home thing, the whole New Family thing. Still getting used to it. Some part of him was still convinced that if he broke something or said something wrong, they would send him back to the orphanage—he really didn’t wanna go back there, so he really was trying his best.

Despite their assurances that they were definitely not going to do that, he was still surprised when they threw him a party. 

The cake wasn’t huge or anything, no fancy bounce houses or gift bags because no one but him and his maybe new family was actually there, and there were only a few presents. But like, they were actually _presents_ , and they’d put up a _banner_?? And streamers, and his bedroom floor had been _covered_ in balloons when he’d woken up. It was for him.

Ayano had thrown her arms around him and Ayaka—no _mom_ or _dad_ yet because he already had a mom and he’d never had a dad—kissed his forehead all soft and Kenjirou ruffled his hair and Seto had cried and hugged him so hard he almost died. Even Kido had given him a smile and a grudging pat on the back. 

He. Well, he felt at home. He felt like this was his home.

They’d told him _Happy Birthday, Shuuya,_ and maybe he had almost cried a little. 

 

And there was the first birthday in their apartment. It was just them now—Kido and Seto and him. Ayaka had died and he’d watched Ayano fall off the roof and their dad was basically gone. So they had left, because there was nothing for them there anymore.

They didn’t have money for anything extravagant, barely had any money for the necessities. Seto was working two jobs, and he and Kido were trying to find some kind of work, too. 

He had honestly hoped they’d forget, so they wouldn’t have to go through any trouble. Things had been hard enough already. He’d woken up early, gotten dressed quickly, and almost slipped away unnoticed—but Seto had caught him by the arm and dragged him to the table.

“Eat your breakfast, idiot,” Kido said.

“Your special birthday breakfast,” Seto added. 

He made a show of giving in and sitting down, but he was grateful. 

 

It’s dark outside this year. (If he waits just a few more hours, the day will be over altogether.) It’s dark, and he doesn’t really wanna go back, because he doesn’t wanna be disappointed if there’s nothing waiting for him and doesn’t wanna get mad at himself for being disappointed, because that’s stupid—things have been hectic, a bunch of new Dan members and all that. The apartment’s been really loud lately. Lively.

It’s dark outside when he reaches the apartment, dragging his feet, late enough for him to be in bed, to feign innocence the next morning, to leave the day behind and pretend another year hasn’t passed since her death, since they left, since he’d messed up. 

It’s bright inside when the door swings open—way brighter than it should be when everyone should definitely be asleep?? He’s blinking his way inside because he’s just spent half the night in the dark, and then there are arms around his shoulders and hands ruffling his hair and yelling coming for someone’s phone. 

“Happy Birthday, Kano!” and wow that’s a lot of voices? 

Seto hugs him fiercely again and Kido smiles again, pats his back. 

“It’s my _birthday_? No _way,_ ” he voice feels foreign on his tongue, but his cheeks feel light and he’s smiling without any help, wow?

“Yeah, it’s your birthday, idiot,” Kido scoffs.

“Why were you out so late?” Set asks, arms still hooked around his shoulder.

“Wait, wait, we have presents!” Momo says somewhere to his left, and he hears Ene yelling in agreement. 

The cake isn’t huge or anything, and there aren’t very many presents, and there are more people here than before but still not as many as an entire grade—but that’s fine, because it’s almost something like a mismatched tactless little family, and he thinks that’s probably better, even if he probably definitely doesn’t deserve this much??

But it’s like. Well, he feels like he’s at home. 

“Jeez, not even confetti?” he sighs, “So much potential, wasted.”

“It’s not like you would help clean it up,” Kido points out. 

Kano puts a hand up in surrender—guilty as charged. 

“Thanks,” he says next, “Really.” 

**Author's Note:**

> finals are in a week and a half,, reviews will give me Strength to carry on,,,pls,,


End file.
